Besedila: Bruce Hornsby. Lady With The Fan.

Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done
While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows in the flames will grow
Till things we've never seen will seem familiar

Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm
In Carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier by the looks of him
Who came through many fights, who lost in love

While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks
And suddenly flies open and a girl is standing there
Eyes alight with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair
Takes her fan and throws it to the lion's den

Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance
Soldier gave at least a try, soldier being much too wise
Strategy was his strength and not disaster

The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him
That's how it stands today, you decide if he was wise
The story teller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice
His job is to shed light and not to master, not to master